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April 10, 2012

Success is a lot like failure, to be honest, to the point where I can't tell them apart as I'm squirming and blushing and trying to figure out how to deal with the fact that I'm all tied up in all these obligations and problems and issues and general spikes driving themselves into pressure points on my body to relieve and or increase stress and it's just so hard to pick a direction when every direction makes you feel like the way you feel when you win or you lose, that hard breath punched from your gut that tells you that hey, it's okay, you've survived, and you're moving on, just for today, moving on to something better, just for today, moving on to something else and you never need be concerned with that again, and you turn around and there's all those new concerns, all of them, ready for their family portrait, even though they won't stay in place as you set the timer on the camera and the little light in front flashes and you try so desperately to convince Aunt thing-I-was-supposed-to-get-done-two-days-ago and Uncle failed-dreams-you-really-wish-you-hadn't-given-up-on-so-try-one-more-time to look all normal and happy and like things that you could, you really could, complete, or fail to complete, sometime, for real, but even as you study the picture, and see her there, and him here, eyes closed, expressions wrong, positions off, you still can't tell what needs to be done, what needs to be traveled to, what needs.